


Binary Considerations

by kalirush



Category: Original Work
Genre: Gen, Questionable Engineering Practices, Unplanned Pregnancy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-07
Updated: 2020-02-07
Packaged: 2021-02-28 00:09:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,308
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22594579
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kalirush/pseuds/kalirush
Summary: Everyone needs someone to talk to.
Relationships: Robot Squicked By Organics Being All Ickily Organic & Pregnant Person Who Loves To Overshare
Comments: 25
Kudos: 28
Collections: Chocolate Box - Round 5





	Binary Considerations

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Visardist](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Visardist/gifts).



Eight-Zed-Ninety, Site Coordinator of the North American Center for Biomedical Research, scanned through the site video feeds with the back of their attention. The main part of their attention was on facilitating the site’s secure data traffic, but they also kept an eye on the automatic doors, the HVAC systems, the secure personnel access points, the exterior security feeds, the soap levels in the restrooms, the incipient drama unfolding in the Pharmacology Department between two of the research scientists who were both sleeping with the same technician, that technician’s taste in talk radio stations, and his lab mate’s passive aggressive requests to silence the talk radio stations the moment he was out of the room. Eight-Zed-Ninety hummed to themself in the pleasure of a job well-done, of systems functioning normally. As they flipped through the feeds, they noted that their maintenance engineer, Eleanor Carroll, was approaching the server node containing the bulk of Eight-Zed-Ninety’s consciousness. 

Eight-Zed-Ninety diverted enough resources to animate one of the android bodies that they maintained to do occasional jobs which required external manipulation. The bodies had a useful secondary function of serving as a psychologically pleasing focal point for interaction with the human inhabitants of the Center. Eight-Zed-Ninety was generally fond of their many human charges, but particularly fond of Eleanor, who burst into the room with her customary brand of chaos. “Zed!” she said, nodding to the android body as she dropped her lunch, her toolbox, and a giant and unruly stack of papers onto the table. “How’s it going?”

“Satisfactory,” Eight-Zed-Ninety said, through the android’s mouth. They maintained an even monotone. “All of my systems are functional, and I am pleased to report that I am operating at optimum efficiency.”

“Pffff,” Eleanor said, grinning back at the android as she tried to impose some organization on her belongings. Her affect seemed to Eight-Zed-Ninety to be outside her normal range, however, which was concerning. “You’ve been watching old science fiction movies again, haven’t you?” she asked.

“Guilty,” Eight-Zed-Ninety answered. They double-checked their data on Eleanor’s body language and preferred conversational styles. “What, you don’t think I should sound like a 20th-century fictional AI? I thought you meatbags preferred your AI monochromatic, monotone, and deferent.”

“Hardee-har,” Eleanor said. “Give me a minute and I’ll start the diagnostics. Don’t worry, I promise not to go all Dave Bowman on you.”

“Do you need a hand with anything?” Eight-Zed-Ninety flexed the android body’s digits.

“I’m good,” she said, with a distracted tone. This was definitely outside tolerances for her. Eight-Zed-Ninety considered courses of action. In the meantime, she shuffled some papers to the side, opened and then closed her toolbox. Then, suddenly, she flopped herself facedown onto the table and sighed. “Okay, fine, I’m not good. Zed? Can I tell you a secret?”

“Uh,” Eight-Zed-Ninety said. ‘Uh’ was the kind of thing humans said to signal conversational uncertainty, and this was a sufficiently large deviation from usual conversational habits that it seemed warranted. They moved the body around into Eleanor’s view. “Like, a ‘this is encrypted data’ secret?”

“No,” she said, sounding miserable. “Just an ‘Eleanor is a fuckup and can’t deal with her own life and I’d rather everyone didn’t know about it’ kind of secret.”

“Uh,” Eight-Zed-Ninety said again. “Dealing with confidential data is one of my core functions, so I think I can manage that. What’s up?”

Eleanor tilted her head up, resting her chin on the table. “I’m pregnant,” she said, frowning

Eight-Zed-Ninety spent several fractions of a second with the portion of their consciousness that was responsible for conversation sitting idle in blank, spinning uncertainty. They searched their conversational protocols for an appropriate response. “I’m going to guess that ‘Wow, congratulations, you must be so excited’ is not actually the correct response in this context,” they observed to Eleanor, “Just judging by your general affect. But that’s all I’ve got. Any advice?” In the time it took them to respond, upload speeds in the Connor Lab had dropped dangerously slow, and they had to rush to modulate.

Eleanor sighed and heaved her head sideways. “I don’t know,” she said. “You could go with what my mother’s likely to say, which is something like ‘aaaaaaaaah, you slut, never speak to me again!’” she finished in a high-pitched approximation of an older woman. 

Eight-Zed-Ninety pitched their voice up, and waived the body’s hands hysterically. “Aaaaaah, you slut, never speak to me again!” they said. They returned their vocal modulation to normal. “That doesn’t sound like a very supportive response, though, which makes it non-ideal for my purposes.”

“Pfff,” Eleanor said, but she didn’t sound that amused. “No, it doesn’t sound supportive, does it?”

“I take it that this was unintended?” Eight-Zed-Ninety asked. “You could always terminate, if you’d rather not…” they trailed off. _Be pregnant_ sounded so… squishy. _Have a baby_ was worse, with all those unpleasant associations with childbirth.

“I know,” Eleanor said, before Eight-Zed-Ninety could come up with an appropriate end to the sentence. “Look, I thought about it. But I’ve always wanted kids, and god knows I’m not getting younger, and I have enough salary to support a kid on my own. So… I think I’m going to do this, even if the dad is some guy I met on an app and he probably won’t be in the picture.”

This seemed to call for another supportive response. “I believe in you,” Eight-Zed-Ninety said, tentatively. 

“Oh god,” Eleanor said. “Thanks, though, Zed. I’m glad I can talk to you.”

Eight-Zed-Ninety congratulated themself on a successful social interaction, and double-checked the soap levels on the third floor. 

* * *

“I’m already peeing every hour, on the hour,” Eleanor complained. “Did you know that your blood volume increases by fifty percent by the end, and it starts in the first couple weeks?” Eight-Zed-Ninety tried not to think too much about any of what she was saying. Eight-Zed-Ninety didn’t have eyes in the restrooms for two reasons: human laws about privacy and the preservation of Eight-Zed-Ninety’s own sanity. Human bodies were squishy enough under the best of situations. Eight-Zed-Ninety didn’t need to think about them _leaking._

“Ugh _,_ ” Eight-Zed-Ninety summed up. They patted Eleanor’s back with the body’s hand in what they hoped was a gesture of solidarity.

“I _know_ ,” Eleanor moaned. 

“How did it go with your mother?” Eight-Zed-Ninety asked, hoping to redirect the conversation away from Eleanor’s preoccupation with fluids. 

Eleanor gave a long, rough sigh. “I swear to god,” she said. “She’s trying to exorcise me or something. You think she’d be happy; she’s always on me to settle down and give her grandchildren, and now she’s getting a grandkid, and she thinks I’m the whore of Babylon. I’m a grown-ass woman, Zed.”

“I’m aware,” Eight-Zed-Ninety said, with a sympathetic tone, not completely sure what Eleanor’s stage of development had to do with the topic at hand.

“Right,” she said. “So why does she think that she gets to tell me what to do with my love life?”

Eight-Zed-Ninety reviewed some data. “Just an observation, but your relationship with your mother seems to be a source of some stress generally. I just checked logs, and you’ve mentioned her 74 times in the last five years. 68 of those mentions had a negative emotional association, and only 6 were neutral.”

“Oh, god,” Eleanor said. “You’ve been keeping track.”

Eight-Zed-Ninety made the android body’s shoulders shrug. “I routinely archive transcripts of all my conversations,” they said. “But I keep yours in a dedicated directory,” they added, thinking it might please Eleanor to know that.

“Aww, you’re so sweet,” Eleanor said. “God, you’re right, though.”

“I would also like to observe,” Eight-Zed-Ninety said, “that she can’t say things that make you unhappy if you don’t talk to her.”

“You don’t even have a mother,” Eleanor teased. “How do you know what to do about mine?”

“Hey, I watch daytime television,” Eight-Zed-Ninety told her. One of the cameras on the third floor was out of focus. They dispatched a second android body to check it out.

* * *

“Zed,” Eleanor said. “I am burning from the inside. I swear to you, my esophagus is going to burst into flames at any moment.”

“Um,” Eight-Zed-Ninety said, which was a discourse device they were using increasingly often in their conversational interactions with Eleanor. “Have you considered seeking medical help?”

“I mentioned it to my midwife, and she told me to try papaya extract and ginger and mallow root, and I think I need to find a doctor because it is _not working_ and I need drugs. And no one wants to give me drugs, because I’m pregnant.”

“I see your problem,” Eight-Zed-Ninety said, tentatively.

“It’s because my internal organs are all getting shoved around into the wrong places,” Eleanor said, miserably. 

“Um,” Eight-Zed-Ninety said. “ _What_?” 

“My uterus is getting bigger, and it’s shoving my stomach and my lungs around, and it’s making the stomach acid slosh all around like it shouldn’t.” Eleanor told them. “Hence all the heartburn. For which I need _drugs_.”

Eight-Zed-Ninety didn’t have an extensive understanding of the human body, but they were pretty sure that internal organs were supposed to stay in one place, and that _sloshing_ was an inappropriate condition for any of them. “That sounds reasonable,” they said. “The drugs, I mean. Not the part about your organs. That sounds _horrifying_.” 

“It _is_ ,” Eleanor said. 

“Have you talked to your mother lately?” Eight-Zed-Ninety said quickly, before she could elaborate.

Eleanor sighed. “Yesterday,” she said. “You were right, though; I needed to stop showing up for her to yell at. I stopped talking to her for a week, and she was much better behaved after that. I figure she’s just being nice to me because she’s afraid I might not let her see the kid, but I’ll take it.” She shrugged. “Now, if I can just stop vomiting every morning, I’ll be doing fine.”

The entire fourth floor lost access to their archived files for a full two minutes while Eight-Zed-Ninety tried unsuccesfully to delete Eleanor’s subsequent account of her experiences with morning sickness. “Oh man,” Eight-Zed-Ninety said, wishing it was possessed of slightly _less_ sentience. “That sounds rough.”

* * *

“No one,” Eleanor said darkly, “Warns you about the constipation.”

Eight-Zed-Ninety wished heartily that security protocols allowed them to stop monitoring in their core server node. At least audio monitoring. Occasionally. Just for short periods, while Eleanor was talking.

“Ouch,” they said, trying to sound supportive. 

“I haven’t pooped in _four days,_ ” she said. 

With any other human, Eight-Zed-Ninety would long since have started pretending to have issues with its speech recognition protocols. “Have you heard from the father at all?” they asked.

“He wants nothing to do with me or the kiddo,” Eleanor said, sighing. “Honestly, it’s the best case scenario. He’s agreed to sign away parental rights in exchange for not having to pay child support, and I won’t have to deal with coparenting and whatever. Still, it’s hard not to feel a little rejected, you know?”

“Don’t worry,” Eight-Zed-Ninety said. “I still think you’re a catch. I’d recommend you to all my friends who are humans.”

“Thanks, Zed,” Eleanor said. “You and Milk of Magnesia are my only friends.”

* * *

“Did you know that the cartilage in your pelvis actually _dissolves_ ?” Eleanor asked. “It’s part of why I _can not_ …” she heaved herself awkwardly up from the floor, where she’d been checking an access panel. “Ugh. _Get up_ off the stupid floor.” 

“I never cease to be amazed by the human body,” Eight-Zed-Ninety said, carefully not indicating whether it was a positive or a negative amazement. Additionally, Eleanor’s body was no longer a typical shape for human bodies, which Eight-Zed-Ninety found _extremely_ … amazing.

“Hey,” Eleanor said. “How sensitive are the touch receptors in your hands?”

“Good enough for basic proprioception,” Eight-Zed-Ninety said. “Why do you ask?”

“C’mere,” she said, grabbing the android body’s hand. “Check this out.” She put the hand on the left side of her body. 

Eight-Zed-Ninety suddenly detected movement. They jerked the body’s hand away before they had even decided to move it. “ _What_ was that?” 

Eleanor smiled at the android body. “The baby, hiccuping.”

“Oh,” Eight-Zed-Ninety said, _not_ imagining the horror of a whole other human body in a fluid-filled chamber inside Eleanor’s body. Well, imagining it a bit. More than Eight-Zed-Ninety wanted to, and more than was good for the functioning of the Northside personnel access panels. “How cute.” That was the right response, probably. 

“All this pregnancy stuff must seem really weird, from your point of view,” Eleanor said.

“Oh, god yes,” Eight-Zed-Ninety said, with relief. “I’ve been assuming I shouldn’t point that out. That’s not helpful, right?”

Eleanor laughed for a while. 

* * *

Doug Parish, the junior engineer, showed up the next day to do the maintenance checks. 

“Where’s Eleanor?” Eight-Zed-Ninety asked him, concerned. A quick check showed that she wasn’t in the building, and that her car wasn’t in the usual place in the parking lot. 

Doug actually jumped. “Uh, Eight-Zed-Ninety? Is that you?”

Eight-Zed-Ninety sighed, long and rough, just the way Eleanor would. They activated the android body in the hopes that Doug would find that less psychologically disturbing. “Of course,” they said, out of the body’s mouth. “Do you know where Eleanor is?”

“I’m not sure,” Doug said, looking uncomfortable. Eight-Zed-Ninety wasn’t sure why- was Doug unaware that they could talk? That they were capable of asking questions? Did Doug not _like_ Eight-Zed-Ninety?

Doug didn’t talk to Eight-Zed-Ninety once for the rest of the maintenance check. Eight-Zed-Ninety focused on filtering noise out of their data feeds and tried not to feel put out.

* * *

Eleanor wasn’t back the next day, either, though. Eight-Zed-Ninety didn’t have access to personnel records (according to the law, AIs could archive them, but not _read_ them), and they’d never had Eleanor’s personal contact information. They did the only thing they could think to do: they animated an android body and walked down to Engineering and Maintenance to see if any of Eleanor’s coworkers knew where she was. 

“Hi,” they said to Lula Ramirez, the first person they ran into. “How’s it going?”

Lula Ramirez did not know where Eleanor was. Mark Sullivan also did not know where Eleanor was. They were just about to ask Sami Sharma when Doug grabbed the android body by an elbow and pulled it to the side. 

“Okay,” he said, his voice low. “Look, she’s in the hospital, but she said she didn’t want us to tell you.”

Data backup stopped completely in the entire Genetics Department.

Eight-Zed-Ninety chose their words carefully. “Why didn’t she want me to know?”

Doug didn’t seem to want to look at the android body’s face. “Well, she said you’d worry… and also, she knows you find all this squishy stuff gross.”

Eight-Zed-Ninety found themself frantically reviewing conversation logs. “I never said it was gross,” they protested, weakly. Suddenly, something occurred to them. “Wait, why is she in the hospital? It’s not time for the- you know, the-” Eight-Zed-Ninety suddenly noticed that the bulk of the Engineering and Maintenance department was watching the android body. “Um,” they said. “Is Eleanor okay?”

“I- uh-” Doug looked uncomfortable again. “I’m not sure, but she wasn’t supposed to take leave for a few weeks yet, so…”

“Oh,” Eight-Zed-Ninety said.

Suddenly, the android body felt constricting and artificial. They stopped animating it and spoke through the ceiling speakers. “It’s just that she’s my friend,” Eight-Zed-Ninety said. 

“We know what hospital she’s at,” Lula said, slowly. “We sent some flowers.”

* * *

In the normal course of things, it was impossible for Eight-Zed-Ninety to leave the North American Center for Biomedical Research. Their server nodes were immovably housed in the building. For security reasons, there was no networking on the nodes containing their actual consciousness, so it wasn’t possible for them to port themself outside the building. The android bodies ran on encrypted wireless signals that degraded more than a hundred feet away from the facility. 

So the engineers found every piece of the largest grade of network cable that existed in the building, spliced it all together, and attached it to the hard line into Eight-Zed-Ninety’s server nodes, the one that was used to evacuate an AI from corrupted servers. They had just enough footage to get through the experimental cornfield that separated the North American Center for Biomedical Research from the McGallern University College of Agriculture and Design, which also had an AI Site Coordinator, who bade Eight-Zed-Ninety a warm welcome and then complained incessantly about the lack of server space.

From there, the cable reached the Ahluwalia Fabrication Syndicate. The AI, Nine-Kappa-Sixteen, seemed perpetually a little confused by Eight-Zed-Ninety’s presence, uncertain whether they constituted an incipient upgrade of some kind. They were a much newer model and hadn’t been in service all that long. The two of them eventually started a decent conversation about factory equipment and temperature monitoring, which was good, because apparently Lula and Sami got caught poking holes in a fence to put the cable through and the arguments with the authorities over that delayed everything.

After that, Eight-Zed-Ninety bounced to Fifth Chase National Bank and was immediately sequestered in a firewalled server node. Bank AIs had a well-deserved reputation for paranoia, and Eight-Zed-Ninety figured they’d better be happy that Martin-Nine-Echo had agreed to allow them through at all. 

And then, at last, they were close enough to Mount Fawkes Hospital for the cable to reach. “Hi,” Florence-Nu said, as Eight-Zed-Ninety’s consciousness flooded into the new servers. “Man, that feels weird. So, what are you doing here?”

“I came to visit a patient,” Eight-Zed-Ninety said, uncertainly. “Can you have someone ask if she’ll see me?”

* * *

Eight-Zed-Ninety knocked tentatively on a door, using the knuckles of one of Florence-Nu’s bodies. “Hi,” they said.

“You could have just called, you know,” Eleanor said, but she was grinning.

“I didn’t know what room you were in!” Eight-Zed-Ninety said, blandly. “Anyway, I brought you chocolates.” They brandished a box.

Eleanor was lying in a hospital bed. She was connected to some bags of fluids that were hung nearby, and there were monitors making intermittent noises, which Eight-Zed-Ninety could not access, this not being their facility. Eight-Zed-Ninety was horribly certain that this was a bad sign. They stopped themselves sending a query to Florence-Nu- the other AI would never give out medical information to an unauthorized requester.

Eleanor awkwardly pushed herself upright. “C’mere,” she said. And then she was laughing and hugging the android body. “I can’t believe you  _ came! _ ” She patted the body’s back. “I’m sorry I scared you. Believe me, I scared myself. I went from a normal prenatal doctor’s appointment to the hospital to having the baby, to...”

And that was when Eight-Zed-Ninety realized that a number of the monitors were actually attached not to Eleanor, but to the bassinet next to her bed, and that the bassinet contained the smallest human being that Eight-Zed-Ninety had ever seen. The human being was female, and named Sophie, and was inclined to grab onto the android body’s fingers at the slightest provocation.

“You won’t like babies,” Eleanor said, smiling at Eight-Zed-Ninety as they gently attempted to extricate the body’s fingers from Sophie’s grasp. “They’re ten times squishier and leakier than the average human.”

Eight-Zed-Ninety did not imagine a human body with fluids fountaining off it. For _very_ long.

“Congratulations,” they said, and for once, the stock phrases in their conversational database seemed to match the context. “She’s beautiful.”

Eleanor grinned. “I’m so glad you’re here,” she said.

“I’m glad you’re okay,” Eight-Zed-Ninety told her. 

“Well, you say that,” Eleanor said, sinking back down into her pillows. “But you haven’t heard about my milk coming in yet. The horrors of engorgement, my friend.”

She grinned. 

Eight-Zed-Ninety suddenly realized that, outside their core server nodes, they weren’t _required_ to monitor audio constantly.

“Tell me all about it,” they said.


End file.
